The Kasadya Hellhound Series

Monday, October 20, 2014

Book Blast & Interview: Beacon of Sound by @authorrmgarry

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clip_image002Beacon of Sound

The Noir Dera

Book 1

R.M. Garry

Genre: Paranormal Romance

ISBN: 9781310047725


Number of pages: 247

Word Count: 86,260

Cover Artist: Brandi Doane McCann

Book Description:

There is no way to fight desire and destiny. Marie is going to learn that the only way to win is to give in.

Marie DeLou has everything a successful counselor could ever want. Her mental health practice is thriving and she can help most clients without trying. In addition to a great career, she’s married to a sexy, doting neurologist. Marie has convinced herself that her perfect life is quiet and nothing will change it. Little does she know that a freight train of a man named Patrick Alvang is about to tear right through her quiet existence and turn the world as she knows it upside down.

Prince Patrick Alvang of the Noir Dera has one job to do. His mission is to reveal the truth to Marie and save her from the danger lurking within her walls. The plan is simple that is, until he gets to know the damsel in distress and decides he wants to devour her instead. Saying that Marie is stubborn would be an understatement, so he’ll have to play dirty if he wants to save the damsel and claim Marie as his Na-Ou. Saving a reluctant woman is hard work, but Patrick is sure to enjoy every last erotic second of his undertaking.

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Ahmose Sept Anno held her daughter’s hand close. They were completing a nightly ritual. Her young daughter Marie loved to take long walks and they always walked in the park or open field behind the aquatic complex. The scent of freshly cut grass and nature always left them feeling peaceful, and her young daughter needed to walk in order to remain calm. At the age of 12 the child had already shown amazing power through music.

Marie could recreate any sound she had ever heard on any instrument. While she clung to the cello as if it was her very breath, she took every opportunity to touch all instruments. Ahmose took her to Naples once a week to play the piano at a studio. From the small, migrant community of Immokalee in which they called home, the journey usually took about an hour. It was worth the long drive because the joy and light in Marie's eyes filled Ahmose with love.

She had been raising Marie alone since she fled her homeland with her mother and house sisters. They had all since split in hopes of hiding from the darkness that was out for their blood and power. Ahmose’s mother spent hours weaving spells from the wind in order to preempt any strikes against them. They had both decided that Marie would be encouraged to pursue her passion for music but would never be allowed to learn about the significance of her power. As long as Marie did not open herself to the Ether, no one would know of her existence. Every time Marie asked about her abilities, they just told her she was special and loved by all Gods.

No matter how much she masked her powers, Ahmose knew danger was only a heartbeat away. She and her mother both felt it, and every day they felt the dark powers in Immokalee growing. Something had finally caught up with them. They worked even harder to protect Marie. Ahmose was not afraid of dying; she was afraid that both her and Gran would be killed leaving Marie at the mercy of the Dera, and she could never allow that to happen. Once this walk was over, she would double her efforts and pull more power from the new God they now served.

After hiding in Haiti, their powers had been recognized by the Haitian Vodou Loa Loko. He was the only God that could make an individual a Hougan or Mambo. He had borne witness to their past and had blessed them with power, protection, and safe passage to the United States. They could never reveal their power to others or attempt to reconnect with their former God the Ether. If they chose to break that vow, they would be left open to danger and never allowed back into the fold of power.

For many reasons, Marie's powers had to be suppressed. They would have to willingly sacrifice themselves in order to help Marie gain her full powers. They would have to return to the Ether and leave Marie behind, and they were not willing to do that. As long as they both lived, the young, powerful musician that she had given birth to would be safe and remain alive.

"Mommy, did you hear me?” Marie's soft voice floated to her ears.

"Yes, dearest, I heard you. What instrument do you want to play now?” Ahmose replied.

"I had a dream about an Erhu. The music was so beautiful and sad, and the woman playing it had glowing eyes. She looked as though she wanted to cry but had to hold it in. The Erhu was crying for her and telling the world of her sadness.”

Ahmose drew in a sharp breath. The instruments were starting to call Marie, she thought. They were showing her the future. The Erhu is a Chinese violin. It had been used for centuries by different ethnic groups in China and throughout the world to convey emotions through music. Their neighbor Lan Yi had only played the instrument once in Marie’s presence but Marie was able to recognize it in a dream.

Before she could speak, she heard the sound of walking thunder.

The thunder was not coming from the sky; it was more of a thundering vibration that was coming towards them. Her heart began to race. They were here, and they were going to take Marie away. She had to protect Marie.

"Run daughter! Do not question me, just run!” Ahmose cried out.

They began to run and Ahmose called to the Vodou Loa Loko and began to draw on her powers as a mambo. She called for a spell of protection which descended upon her as she began to run faster.

Ahmose had a moment of relief that was immediately shattered as she realized that Marie was not covered by her protection. Loko would only protect the Hougans and Mambos, and Marie had not yet been inducted into that life. She would be protected while the life of her daughter was drained.

"Manman, what is that?” asked Marie. “I hear dark music. It is so scary.”

"Hush my daughter. I will protect you.”

Without warning, Ahmose and Marie were frozen still. Dark hands wrapped around Ahmose’s throat and she began to wheeze. The hands squeezed tighter and tighter. Marie saw the hands and began to cry.

"Rete w ap toufe l'! Stop, you’re choking her! Mommy, mommy!” screamed Marie as Ahmose called more power.

The hands around her throat began to ease. A second pair of hands began to close around Marie's throat. Ahmose did not think or hesitate.

"Do not cry daughter. Let the Erhu cry for you!”

Ahmose called forward her power of Earth. “I call on the power of Earth. Bind and protect my daughter, Marie Sept Anno. I open myself to the Ether. May its blessing be upon my daughter, the Beacon.”

There was a sound of fibers ripping as dark brown waves poured from the Sky and into Ahmose. She immediately shot her hands forward and ripped through the dark body strangling Marie. Marie started to wheeze, then caught her breath. The dark powers began to disappear except for one. She heard a familiar voice say, "What shall be our payment, Loko? Your mambo has broken her vow. You must pay the cost of her treason.” The figure then began to laugh.

Ahmose was prepared and knew what was coming. In an instant, her protective shields vanished and the dark hands returned to her throat. "I shall finally have your power, Beacon of Earth.” Ahmose would never let her powers be drained; she made her final sacrifice for her daughter. "Thank you, Loko, for your protection. My family will never be able to repay you. I take my punishment freely for breaking my vow.”

She looked at Marie and whispered, "I love you, Marie, daughter of my land.”

"Mommy, what are you saying? Let her go, please let her go!”

Ahmose looked to the sky as her throat began to close. "I call to the Ether, return me to your peace. Take Marie, the beacon of my womb, as my gift and sacrifice. Send my power to your first daughter, my mother. May it be there when she’s ready to receive your blessings? Oh great Ether, return me home.”

A flash of light hit the sky and blue power poured into Marie. Ahmose took one last breath and died. The dark power left her body in a heap on the ground as the figure of a woman shrouded by darkness moved towards Marie with malevolent intent. As she got close, a strong wind blew her away. The wind wrapped itself around Marie who was lying on top of her mother's body. "Manman, please wake up! It’s okay, you can breathe now. The mean lady is gone.” The wind blew in Marie's ears and whispered "Don't cry daughter; let the Erhu cry for you.”

Marie began to shiver as waves of blue light began to flow from her body. A sad melody filled the air, it was the music of an Erhu. Jia Peng Fang's “Cherry Blossoms” could be heard throughout the field and down the block. Marie shook and shivered but she never cried. She felt the wind return and her body was lifted off of her mother. Ahmose’s body rose up into the air and began to turn into brown waves and wind. The waves mixed with the wind and started floating away as the music grew louder. The brown waves wound themselves around Marie and lifted her up. After a few minutes, she was place on the ground and the waves disappeared into the sky. Marie laid down and did not get up. She waited in that very spot, hoping to wake up from this nightmare.

Femi Sept Anno felt the moment her daughter left the mortal plain. She felt her heart breaking. She put her fist to her mouth and held back her tears. She called out to the winds, "Find my granddaughter!” The winds obeyed and took her to Marie. She found Marie lying on the ground. Ahmose was gone. "Marie! Come to me! Let me take you home.” It was then that Marie opened her eyes as Femi saw something that she had prayed to never see in her granddaughter's eyes. The innocent girl she loved was gone. Sadness, fear, and hopelessness were the only things left in her brown, almost mortal eyes. She lifted her granddaughter into her arms and went home. This was only the beginning. One day she would have to give up the mortal world in order to protect Marie. Until that time, they would go home.


Character Name: Marcel DeLou

Character Bio: Marcel DeLou is 6’6” with beautiful hazel eyes. He is a neurologist with dark secrets. His wife Marie has no idea who he really is. Marcels has the ability to make someone confess their darkest secrets. No one can run from his dark power. He is the Beacon of Truth. In other words, Marcel DeLou is a sexy package of danger and deceit.

Michael Ealy would bring Marcel DeLou to life on the big screen.


Describe yourself what is your worst and best quality?

Marcel: What do you mean worst qualities? I can bring a woman to her knees with a simple touch and I am French. I don’t have any bad qualities.

Do you consider yourself to be a good guy?

Marcel: I will admit that being bad makes me happy. I wouldn’t call myself a villain. It is my belief that a little bad is good for your soul.

What is the one thing you wish other people knew about you?

Marcel: Marie is a necessary evil. If I had a choice, I would have handed her over to someone else.

What is your biggest secret something no one knows about?

Marcel: I have a hidden power that will be triggered once I find my Na-Ou or life mate as you women call it. A real one this time. It is a long story and if you read the book then, you know what I am talking about.

What are you most afraid of?

Marcel: My biggest fear is losing control. I admit to being a little dark and a lot dangerous.

What do you want more than anything?

Marcel: I want to own my destiny. Instead of waiting for some miracle to fix things, I do what I must to survive.

What is your relationship status?

Marcel: I bet you would love to know. We could discuss it in private.

I thought you were married Mr. DeLou.

Marcel: I could force the truth of your desires out but we don’t have time. You can ask the next question.

How would you describe your sense of fashion?

Marcel: I am GQ. If it is worth owning than it is in one of my closets.

How much of a rebel are you?

Marcel: I do bad things and feel that being bad is ok. Does that make me a rebel?

What do you considered to be your greatest achievement?

Marcel: My greatest achievement was fooling Marie. She hangs on my every word and touch

What is your idea of happiness?

Marcel: Being able to control everyone and everything around me is my idea of happiness.

What is your current state of mind?

Marcel: I am always cautious.

What is your most treasured possession?

Marcel: My identity is my most treasured possession. Well, it was until…

Until what? What were you going to say?

Marcel: Next question.

What is your most marked characteristic?

Marcel: My eyes glow when I am bad. The women seem to love it.

What is it that you, most dislike?

Marcel: I despise weakness. If you choose a path follow it through the end.

Which living person do you, most despise?

Marcel: I despise Arimus. He will pay for the mess he created. He will repent on his knees.

What is your greatest regret?

Marcel: My ambitions destroyed everything I had with the woman I loved.

What is the quality you most like in a woman?

Marcel: I like women who aren’t afraid to beg me for more. She has to be feisty but not stubborn. I am done with stubborn women.

Who is your favorite hero in fiction?

Marcel: Dracula is my hero. He took whatever he wanted

Which living person do you most admire?

Marcel: I admire myself.

If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be?

Marcel: My wife Marie is a mental health counselor. She has tried to probe my mind and emotions on numerous occasions. I don’t need the same touchy feeling crap from you.

Is there a reason you laughed when you called Marie, your wife?

Marcel: Yea, there is a reason.

Are you going to share that information?

Marcel: Read the story.

What is your motto?

Marcel: Lies are easy. The truth is a dark place. I will take you into the dark but won’t guarantee you will return.

Wow, you are a terrifying man.

Marcel: I know, but you like it. Tell me the truth my little dove.




R.M. Garry lives with her three male children a.k.a the wolf pack and her husband of 12 years.

Writing allows her to maintain her sanity while juggling her world.

Her goal is to give readers a brief escape from the realities of their world.

When she isn’t writing, R.M. is reading and keeping up with her favorite authors.

For updates and book information readers can visit

Twitter: @authorrmgarry



Word Press Blog:

Book Blast, Giveaway & Interview: Wicked Flower by @cloveflores

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clip_image002Wicked Flower

A Sin Pointe Novel

Book 5

Carlene Love Flores

Genre: Erotic Contemporary Romance

Publisher: Evernight Publishing

ISBN: 978-1-77130-987-5


Number of pages: 228

Word Count: 80,160

Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

Book Description:

Sin Pointe front man Stefan Calderon is playing a very dangerous game and his mom’s live-in caretaker, Dani Foster, just landed right smack in the middle of it.

Practically strangers when Stefan rolls into his small hometown looking to patch things up with Mom, his and Dani’s worlds collide with a hot and intense hook up. He knows right away this woman will make the perfect partner for his two weeks in town. But when she realizes whose son he is, and what he’s there to do, sexy times come to an abrupt halt.

That is until they come up with a solution. Rules. Every game needs them. The question isn’t if they’ll break them, but when and how hard.

It’s a wickedly delicious game, one neither of them intends to lose.

Sin Pointe Book Trailer Series

Available at Evernight / Amazon / All Romance eBooks / BookStrand


Wow. Had Will pegged this perfectly or what? Stefan was determined not to hear her. What hurt Dani most was how his confidence had been shattered by a ten minute conversation in a silly rose garden.

She didn’t even remember that she’d just been crying and the wetness on her cheeks surprised her when she wiped a piece of hair from her face. “But you come back. And when you do, you bring the best laughs and joy with you. You bring yourself.”

“No, don’t do that. Don’t make me out to be some good guy, Dani. It’ll only hurt you in the end.” He paused and then stabbed her with a look sharper than steel. “You sucked my cock good last night, but that doesn’t mean you own me. I don’t owe you anything.”

Her face flamed with sheer anger. She nearly spit the word asshole right back in his face but remembered Will’s warning. She could be just as stubborn. “Try again. I did suck your cock good and no, you don’t owe me anything. But you will hear me out. You know who else leaves their loved ones behind? How about soldiers?”

“That’s different and you know it.”

“How so? They stay gone for months. Thom gets one two-week break half-way through his year-long tour. He comes home one time, Stefan. In an entire year. How is that different than what you do?”

Stefan looked like she’d shot him. He held his hands over his midsection and hunched over before he righted himself again.

“I don’t know. It just is. I’m not laying my life on the line for anyone.”

“But you’re putting it on hold so you can make all those people who love your music happy.” She wouldn’t stop now. “I bet if you were with someone, you’d find a way to see that person, no matter how far away you were. And I bet that person would be thankful, and…” Her eyes welled up with tears again. “So very happy for each moment, no matter how short or how much time passed between visits. Or how big of a mean jerk you could be sometimes.”

The amount of time he stayed with his head bowed down killed Dani. Losing him in a couple days hadn’t hurt before because she realized she’d held out hope that things would work out between them. That her Superman would figure it out and fix it all. He’d invite his mom to Nashville and Dani too. All she needed was an invitation and his ability to wait two measly months for her to arrive.

“Stefan, look at me.”

She waited patiently.

“I’ll just hurt you, Dani. Don’t you get it? I fucking love you and I’d hurt you.”

Her breath tunneled around her lungs and her knees threatened to give out but she wouldn’t stop until she’d convinced him he would not do that. Not if he … not if he loved her. The way she loved him back.

“Why do you keep saying that? Leaving, when it’s your job, doesn’t hurt the one you love.”

Her mind was nearly useless after his use of the L word. Maybe he was trying to tell her he wouldn’t be faithful.

“You don’t understand me, Dani.”

“Then help me out here. Are you saying you’d sleep around on the road? Is that some inevitable part of you being Stefan Calderon, bass player?”

Crap. He wasn’t answering her.

“Fuck, I don’t know. Maybe. I’ve never been tested like that.”

“What the hell do you mean?”

Again he went silent. And this time he got up out of his stool and walked to the sink. As if they hadn’t just been in an industrial sized conversation, he reached up and pulled a glass from a cupboard and filled it with water. He guzzled the entire thing down then filled it up and walked back over to her. He set the glass down in front of her, nudging her hand which she realized was in a tight fist.

“Fighting can’t be good for the baby. Dinner’s getting cold. Let’s eat. Then maybe we’ll talk more.”

Maybe we’ll talk more? Who did he think he was? Ending their discussion like that. But her chest had tightened and she knew he was right when she took in a deep breath and felt the built up tension leave and her body relax back to normal.

She hated that he was right. But if he thought she wouldn’t fight for him, he was dead wrong. She took the glass of water, emptying it then handed it back to him.

“What did you get?”

She could play nice while they ate. He loved her.

Stefan brought their plates over. He sat down across from her and stabbed a peapod and a chunk of pink salmon, shaking his head as he bit the food from the fork and chewed. He stabbed another and another bite.

Whoever had made this man, had gotten so many things so very right. No matter that all those things combined made her absolutely crazy.

He loved her. He’d said so.

She chewed, and tried not to cry smile.


Did you always want to be a writer? If not what did you want to be?

 Hi! Thanks so much for this interview. Love having that sexy kiss looking down on me as I type! I wouldn’t say I always wanted to be a writer but I’ve always been very good at playing pretend and thinking up fantasies. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a nurse because I was very fascinated with blood. I worked for a while as a phlebotomist but soon realized that writing romance was my true passion.

When did you first consider yourself a “writer”?

 I was sitting at my son’s football practice one night and nervously asked one of the mom’s I’d gotten to know if she wouldn’t mind reading something I’d written. I hadn’t told anyone besides a few of my family members that I was writing a book. This wonderful lady read it and gave me her honest opinion, that she didn’t necessarily think that book would get published but that someday, she believed I’d be a published writer. I’ll always be very thankful for how graciously she dealt with the situation I’d put her in by asking her of this. We’re great friends to this day and always will be.

How long did it take to get your first book published?

 I wrote Sidewalk Flower beginning in 2008 and it was published in 2013 with Evernight Publishing.

What is the name of your latest book, and if you had to summarize it in less than 20 words what would you say?

 My latest book is called Wicked Flower (A Sin Pointe Novel, #5). The naughtiest member of Sin Pointe knows all about dangerous games so why is he so afraid to win this one?

Who is your publisher? Or do you self-publish?

 I am so proud and happy to say that Evernight is my publisher. I have six books with them and love our working relationship. At this time, I have not self-published but I look forward to dipping my toes into that world at some point in the future.

What can we expect from you in the future?  ie More books of the same genre? Books of a different genre?

For now, I am not sure what the next Sin Pointe book will be but I do have some ideas. I think it’s time to lurk around in some new worlds. I am currently working on a sexy Christmas story about a warrior race of wish-granting reindeer. Usually around Halloween or Christmas, I write a short story with some magical element just to keep things fun and fresh.

What genre would you place your books into?

I write edgy contemporary and that’s where 99% of my story ideas fall under. I seem to enjoy writing about naughty rock stars and adorable odd balls. J

What made you decide to write that genre of book?

 I write what I fantasize most about and that just happens to be modern day, contemporary stuff with lots of music involved.

Do you have a favorite character from your books? And why are they your favorite?

 Thank you so much for asking this. My favorite character is Ben. He’s the quirky, gentle giant webmaster for the band Sin Pointe and his is the third book in the series. It’s called Sin’s Haven. Although, he makes an appearance in all five books. He’s one of those guys who has no idea how sexy he is and I love tapping into that. Plus he’s funny and odd and adorable and has the task of living amongst rock stars. Because of that, I admire his confidence, even though it’s subtle.

Do you have a certain routine you have for writing? ie You listen to music, sit in a certain chair?

 It depends on the mood of the part of the story I’m working on. Lately I’ve been doing a lot of writing in my dark bedroom with Hozier’s “Take Me to Church” playing in the background which is funny because I’m writing a sexy reindeer story. Sometimes I write with a blanket over my head. I know, weird, but it’s about shutting everything else out when you’re trying to get to those very intimate moments.

Do you read all the reviews of your book/books?

 I do read them. I appreciate anyone who takes the time to read my book and then share their thoughts, whether they liked the story or not.

Do you choose a title first, or write the book then choose the title?

 Great question! I normally write the book and it’s always different as to exactly when, but at some point during the writing, the title jumps out. The first Sin Pointe Novel’s title came very early on when I was writing a poem about the heroine who reminded me of a flower that had fought its way up through the cracks in a sidewalk, hence Sidewalk Flower. The only time it’s been different was for this last book, Wicked Flower. It’s the fifth book in the series and so by the time I got to writing it, I knew the hero very well. His name is Stefan and we first meet him in Sidewalk Flower. I always knew his book would have Wicked in the title because that’s just who he is.

How do you come up with characters names and place names in your books?

 I’m one of those people who honestly feels they are receiving someone’s story by very special, otherworldly means. My job is just to listen and write it down. So the characters come to me in that way. Normally I’ll see them in a very vulnerable, intimate moment with another character and that’s where most of the stories start.

Are there any hidden messages or morals contained in your books?

 Sort of along those lines although not exactly what you’re asking, but I’m a huge Depeche Mode fan and there are several song titles that have ended up in the Sin Pointe novels. “But not tonight” is one of my favorites. “Get the balance right” is another. The moral of anything I write is a message of not feeling ashamed. I’ve seen too many good-hearted people go down because of one mistake and the shame heaped on top of them was just too heavy.

Which format of book do you prefer, eBook, hardback, or paperback?

 I like to pet my favorite book covers so for that one reason, I hope hard copies will always be around. I like standing in long lines and handing a book over to my favorite author and watching them write that special message to me on the dedication page. That being said, I LOVE my Kindle and love that my own books are part of such awesome technology.

What is your favorite book and Why?  Have you read it more than once?

 My favorite book is Seize the Night by Sherrilyn Kenyon because it was my first romance novel and I love how it came into my world. I was walking aimlessly around the crazy busy floor of San Diego Comic-Con in 2008 and a young lady stuck a book in my path and asked if I wanted it. I was lost and didn’t have books on my mind. But she said, “Come on, it’s free.” She had a good point. I took it home, read it and fell in love. Absolutely in love. I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve read it but we’ll say lots!

Your favorite food is?

 San Diego-style Rolled Tacos

Your favorite singer/group is?

 Depeche Mode

Your favorite color is?

Midnight Blue

Your favorite Author is?

 Sherrilyn Kenyon 




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clip_image004Carlene Love Flores is a fan of the stars (especially Orion), music (especially Depeche Mode), and her traveling family (no favorites-she loves them all). These inspire her intimate romance stories.

If she could touch someone’s heart with writing the way others have for her, she’d say there never lived a luckier girl.





Book Blast & Giveaway: The King's Mistress by @laregna

The Kings Mistress Banner 851 x 315_thumb[1]



clip_image002_thumb[1]The King's Mistress

S.D. Grady

Genre: Historical Romance set in a

Fantasy world/Erotic Romance

Publisher: Purple Sword Publications

Number of pages: 200

Word Count: 80k

Cover Artist: Traci Markou

Book Description:

Bethina Lydia Fortescue, the Lady Godwin, adored her king as no other for twenty years. But the king is dead, and as his mere mistress she is no longer welcome at court.

Sir Arthur Jeffries, newly appointed to Princess Meredith's Regency Council, needs help. He begs the legendary Lady Godwin to return to the palace as the princess' tutor, hopefully to lead the gawky teenager through the political and romantic minefield of suitors and hidden assassins invited to attend her Debutante Ball.

Bethina and Arthur fight the undeniable surge of attraction between them. Bethina cannot bring herself to put aside the love she had for her king, and now concern for his heir. Arthur knows that he will only be able to serve the princess if he continues his life of solitude. Now is no time to take a courtesan to bed.

Brought together as servants to Rushton's crown, but joined through a lifetime of bitter and shrewd experiences, Bethina and Arthur discover that when the princess finally takes a husband, and all the enemies of the land are vanquished, they will have only one thing left to live for: love.


The phantom caress of Freddie's touch conjured long buried memories. Ah, sweet agony. Exuberant in their youth, she and Freddie had explored all the possible sexual positions together. And now...

She fought against a tear. That was all in the past. Gone.

She closed her eyes so she might ignore the overly familiar oil landscape hung over her bed and the other tiny details that recalled the sweet and torrid memories. Her finger caught at a lace ribbon on the vanity top and pulled it across the polished wood surface. Her favorite clock ticked. Time passed. When would the hole in her heart heal? Anger at her weakness surged. She grabbed and held onto it.

"Stop being morbid, Beth. You've got a job to do." Her voice echoed in the vaulted room.

A knock sounded from the outer chamber. She still had an hour before she expected her first guest. The tweeny scurried to answer it.

"She's not quite decent, sir."

Bethina grinned. Leave it to the young ones to state the truth. She stood and turned to welcome whoever it might be, calling out, "Let them in, Laurel. I'm as decent as I'm going to get." It took but a few steps to enter the sitting room.

The girl curtsied and opened the door wider. Sir Arthur stood in the hall, his cap in his hand and eyes wide as he noticed the extravagance of her chamber.

Once again, that phantom emotion sprang to life. She couldn't possibly take another lover. Never. Action would help to stifle her misgivings.

"Come. Come." She gestured him into the room. "It's been far too long since these rooms saw a gentleman not bent on nefarious deeds."

The man blushed, his grey eyes darkened. "You think me harmless, Lady Godwin?"

"Hah!" She strode to the chaise, settled down and reached for the bell. The tweeny reappeared. "What would you like to drink, sir?"

Dressed in a suit of black silk from head to foot, the diplomat evoked an aura of quiet power. He had not moved since pausing inside her threshold. "I like to keep my wits when dining with my enemies and my friends."

Bethina pressed her lips together before ordering, "Small ale for two."

He remained still, his gaze boring into hers. "Do you possess a more modest gown, Lady Godwin?"

She chuckled and leaned forward just a touch. "Unlike you, Sir Arthur, it is not to my advantage to fade into background. A low cut bodice is far more effective in eliciting confidences than sitting near silent in a corner with a shawl up to my chin." Even as she grinned, her melancholy vanished. Thank goodness she had somebody to match wits with.

He coughed and appeared to decide she was not about to eat him for lunch. He stretched his long legs out as he settled in the high-backed chair opposite her perch. He continued to study her. What did he want?

"Now, why the early arrival for supper?"

He turned his attention to the appointments of the chamber; the heavy furniture, damask curtains, oil paintings. Every feminine furbelow Trudy could gather dotted all possible surfaces. Lace, china, clocks, jewelry. It appeared as the room of a very wealthy lady of the nobility. No guest could possibly guess at her sordid past.

"Sir Arthur?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Sorry. I wondered if you required any more information before we go in for supper this evening?"

"No, I think not. Sometimes it is better to make your own judgments, true?"

He rubbed his palms together for a moment. "I would have to agree with that."

So, he was avoiding speaking his mind. Really, now was not the time to keep secrets from her.

Laurel appeared with their drinks, served and withdrew.

Perhaps if she taunted him.

Bethina ran one finger along the rim of her glass, collecting the drop of moisture sitting there and then licked it dry. "You really wanted to see what I had chosen to wear. Admit it. What would the famed mistress of King Frederyk do upon her return to court?" She sipped at her ale and decided the castle boasted a fine master brewer.

"Yes. I am taking a huge risk here. Should we misstep, I shall be back in the desert of Uiel and you in that house on the river."

"But you forget, Sir Arthur." She placed her glass on the small table at her right and drew a heart on the tabletop from the glass's condensation. "Not once in two decades was I dismissed from court. I am good at this."

He smiled and relaxed in his seat. "As am I."

She met his steady gaze. Good. His defenses were coming down. She took a deep breath, her breasts pressing against her tight bodice. His grey eyes widened. He swallowed. She followed his Adam's apple down his muscled neck and grinned in appreciation at his wide shoulders. The years had been kind to him. The blood beat in her ears . Her body stirred.

And suddenly it became clear. He desired her. As much as she wanted him.

"I didn't come here for a flirtation." Her protest sounded gravelly.

His cheeks blazed with color. "I did not invite you for such."

She waited, as he appeared to want to say more. In the end, they simply shared a nod each understood. The heat and lust would wait, for now. "I am here for Freddie's niece. She needs me."

He nodded. "Yes, she does. I think, though, that I will enjoy working alongside you."

"Just working?"

The room filled with unspoken words. Heat. Hushed sighs beneath covers.


4 ebook copies of The King's Mistress 

How it works:

Follow S.D. Grady along on her Bewitched Blog Book Tour during the month of October to help her celebrate the release of her historical fantasy romance The King's Mistress.

Answer correctly 5 of the 6 questions provided on this page:

Email the answers to: by November 8th, 2014 

Use the Subject Line of "Treasure Hunt Answers" 

All the answers will be found on the blog tour.

The first four people to email S.D. Grady with the correct answers will win a free e-copy of The King's Mistress.  

Winners will be notified via email.





S.D. Grady is a lover of men, music, movies and fast machines. A beautiful gown stirs her blood as quickly as a NASCAR race. An author of historical and fantasy romance, she never hesitates to switch gears and plunge into the real world of sports commentary.

She lives in her house on the hill with her husband of 20 years and their cats. During work hours she runs a movie theatre and, when not writing, enjoys crocheting yet another colorful afghan. Several times a year you can find them at the track in their RV.

The S-Curves blog

Trailer Reveal: Hunter by Renee Donne

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Anaiah Press is proud to present the trailer reveal for YA novel HUNTER by Renee Donne.

Hunter cover

Moving across the country isn’t Hunter’s ideal start to her Junior year of high school. She has no friends to hang out with, no beaches to lounge on, and she’s living just a few miles from the secluded hiking trail where her father died when she was a baby.

Living in Wyoming isn’t all bad, though, thanks to Logan, the handsome veterinary assistant at the animal clinic where she lands an after school job. And he seems just as interested in her as she is in him.

As Hunter begins to settle into her new home, she learns more about the circumstances surrounding her father’s tragic death, and it may not have been the accident everyone believes. Something dangerous lurks in the woods, and Hunter might be the next victim.

Release Date: June 9, 2015

Add HUNTER to Goodreads!

And now for the trailer...



                                                                          About the Author

Renee DonneRenee Donne is a native Floridian with a penchant for writing books with a western theme. In her head she's a world traveler and an amateur chef. In real life, she's a hometown girl with an affinity for fine wine and good friends. Her favorite place to write is sitting on her veranda, overlooking the beach.



Saturday, October 18, 2014

Blast & Interview: Claiming Their Royal Mate by @AndieDevaux

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clip_image002Claiming Their Royal Mate:

Part One

Of A Four-Part Serial

Andie Devaux

Genre: Paranormal Erotic Romance /



Number of pages: 63

Word Count: 18,000

Cover Artist: Cormar Covers

Book Description:

Daniella Clark has never fit in—a fact she’s always blamed on being adopted. But when her body is overtaken by a need so fierce it defies human explanation, she turns to the one man she instinctively knows must have the answers she seeks—her sexy-as-sin neighbor. But his explanation isn’t one she can easily accept, and it means her sexual heat won’t go away without his help.

But it turns out her neighbor isn’t the only male she has to worry about. The prime of his people has laid claim to her. And though he radiates sexuality in a way that makes her mouth water, he’s more beast than man. With one weretiger charged to protect her, and the prime's plan to claim her for his own, Daniella must fight to maintain her sense of self, even while they fight for her.

Claiming Their Royal Mate: Part One is an 18,000-word novella, and it is the first entry in a four-part sexy, m/f/m serial. The story contains erotic situations and is intended for mature readers.

Available at Amazon Free October 15-19



Holy crap. How had she accumulated so many clothes that no longer fit?

Barely keeping hold of the bags full of old clothes, Daniella Clark bumped her butt into the door to push it open. Stepping into the hallway, she hit something nearly as hard as the door—something that grunted at the contact. The bags slipped from her fingers to land on the threshold. The hard body she’d run into was attached to a large man blocking her doorway, and her glare didn’t seem to ruffle him at all.

The jerk was always in her way lately.

“Jeez. Way to skulk around my door. What do you want, Owen?” Daniella asked, hating the breathiness in her voice.

Her neighbor stared at her for a moment, and his nostrils flared. Something passed behind his gaze. Something that made her breath catch and tension build between her legs. But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. And he shrugged, arrogant mask engaged.

“I was just passing by. Not my fault you didn’t look where you were going.”

The man was seriously aggravating. She could hardly believe they’d been good friends the last year, ever since she’d accidentally locked herself out of her apartment. He’d been kind enough to give her a place to hang out while she’d waited for the building’s superintendent to show up with the key. From then on, they’d hung out at least once a week, sometimes more, depending on her schedule. That is, up until a month ago.

“I’m getting sick of you always being in my way, Owen.” She picked up the bags, needing something to look at that wasn’t her ridiculously hot neighbor. Her attraction to him itself was irritating because he wasn’t her type, even if he did make her weak in the knees. His face was hard, chiseled and memorable, but his features were too strong to be considered traditionally handsome—his nose too Roman and his jaw a little too wide. Not to mention he rarely smiled at her anymore, and she liked men who weren’t afraid to enjoy life.

Heck, that was why she’d liked his company for so long—his easy laughter and quick wit. Over the last month, it was as if he’d turned into a different man. One who didn’t smile much and who was quick to anger.

She tried not to take it personally, but the fact he’d just cut off their friendship, cold as ice, made being the bigger person difficult.

His full head of light brown hair was nice, if always a little too long—as if he were constantly two weeks late to the barber. But he was far bigger than guys she liked to date. Broad and muscled like a man who never left the gym. Although she’d never actually seen him at the gym near their Denver apartment complex, he had to work out somewhere. Men just didn’t achieve that level of muscle naturally.

But despite the fact he didn’t fit her usual mold, she found herself more than just a little attracted to him.

Of course, that was a hopeless cause if ever there was one. She’d seen his dates—all two of them—since he’d moved into the building. They were both model thin, and while she was usually pretty proud of her voluptuous form, no one would ever accuse her of being waif-like.

Her attraction had started with a tremor. Just the slightest quavering of her voice when she spoke to him. Then, just when she’d started looking at him differently, he’d shut down. Stopped talking to her, started making excuses for why he couldn’t hang out with her anymore. But he always seemed to be around. At her door when she walked out. Looking irritated to run into her in the parking lot.

“I was walking through a shared hallway. Would you prefer I jump out the window to get to my truck?” A hint of a smile touched his lips, and her breath caught.

Freaking-A. No way was a simple smile turning her on. She was really starting to dislike her neighbor. “I’d love for you to jump out a window or two. Heck, I’ll even help with a little push.”

And she wasn’t lying. Sure, she wouldn’t really push a man out a window, but something inside of her—the part that was continuously horny, lately—was also feeling pretty violent. It came out at the weirdest times, and it took every ounce of her self-control not to lash out. Probably she needed to go see her doctor about a new birth control or something. Out of whack hormones were likely the cause of her wild emotions.

Not that Owen was helping. He’d chased off two of her dates in the last month. Not by doing anything she could call him out for. No, he was too subtle for that. He’d just drop in to borrow sugar—when she’d never once seen the man bake. Or he’d say he thought he’d smelled gas coming from her apartment, and wanted to check. Then he’d glower in a way that made her dates run for the hills.

And then he started showing up at her apartment when she was feeling particularly…needy.

“Surely you wouldn’t want to see me injured.” His nose flared again, as if he couldn’t get enough of her smell. It was seriously disturbing.

Even more disturbing was the sudden wetness between her legs and the tension coiling in her belly. She really needed to get some if a man she didn’t even like could get her engine revving by smelling her. “I wouldn’t bet on that.”

“You’ll be happy I’m around, Daniella. Very soon.”

She tried to shove past him, but he moved out of her way before they touched, quick for such a large man. Part of her regretted the lack of contact, but the rest of her thought that part was batshit crazy.


Character Name: Erick

Character Bio: Erick is the prime (leader) of the weretiger clan. Inexperienced with human relationships, he struggles to understand the woman he seeks for his mate. And he isn’t particularly talkative, so good luck with the interview. ;)



Describe yourself what is your worst and best quality?

I have no weaknesses.

What is your biggest secret, something no one knows about?

It’s possible I may have…feelings for this woman. Silly and stupid, it is likely just hormones affecting my judgment. Forget I said such a thing, or I will make you forget.

What are you most afraid of?

I fear nothing. Glares. Fine, if I must answer. It is possible I fear for the future of my people, of my clan. They are my purpose.

What is your relationship status?

I will have Daniella for my mate, whether she acknowledges this yet or not. For our clan to continue, I need her bloodline and her strength.

How would you describe your sense of fashion?


How much of a rebel are you?

I do not rebel. Lip curls. I maintain order.

What is your most marked characteristic?

Some say I’m rigid. But what they mistake for inflexibility is only the result of a focused and determined mind.

What is your greatest regret?

Sending my second, Owen, to watch the woman I intend to make my mate. Their…attachment is inconvenient, as is her way of looking at relationships. So very human.

What is the quality you most like in a man?

Loyalty. Honor. Strength. These are the qualities that matter.

What is the quality you most like in a woman?

Arches brow. Silence.

Who is your favorite hero in fiction?

I do not waste time with fiction.

If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be?

What is this nonsense coming out of your mouth? If anyone should change, it is not me.

What is your motto?

Trust no one.



Andie writes sexy erotic romance and erotica stories that push boundaries. When she's not writing (or reading!), she can usually be found daydreaming or attempting a new recipe. She thinks that life should require happily ever afters. And since she doesn't make the rules of life, she instead applies this philosophy to the worlds she can control-the ones in her books.





Thursday, October 16, 2014

Book Blast, Giveaway & Interview: Feast of Fates by @AuthorChrisAB

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clip_image002Feast of Fates

Four Feasts Till Darkness

Book One

Christian A. Brown

Genre: Fantasy Romance

Date of Publication: September 9, 2014

ISBN: 978-1495907586

Number of pages: 540

Word Count: 212K

Cover Artist: Brian Garabrant

Book Description:

"Love is what binds us in brotherhood, blinds us from hate, and makes us soar with desire.”

Morigan lives a quiet life as the handmaiden to a fatherly old sorcerer named Thackery. But when she crosses paths with Caenith, a not wholly mortal man, her world changes forever. Their meeting sparks long buried magical powers deep within Morigan. As she attempts to understand her newfound abilities, unbidden visions begin to plague her--visions that show a devastating madness descending on one of the Immortal Kings who rules the land.

With Morigan growing more powerful each day, the leaders of the realm soon realize that this young woman could hold the key to their destruction. Suddenly, Morigan finds herself beset by enemies, and she must master her mysterious gifts if she is to survive.

Available at Amazon and Createspace

Book Trailer:



Morigan took the bracelet.

            “I accept your offering.” The Wolf’s face lit and she thought that he would leap at her. “Yet first, I have a request.”

            “Anything, my Fawn.”

            “I would like to see…what you are. The second body that shares your soul. Show me your fangs and claws,” she commanded.

            Perhaps it was the steadiness of her voice, how she ordered him to bare himself as if he belonged to her that made the Wolf’s heart roar to comply. He did not shed his skin but for the whitest moons of the year, and even then, so far from the city and never in front of another. In a sense, he was as much a virgin as she. With an unaccustomed shyness, he found himself undressing before the Fawn, confused for a speck as to who was the hunter. The flare of her nostrils, the intensity of her stare that ate at him for once.

I have chosen well for a mate. She is as much a Wolf as I, he thought, kicking off his boots and then shimmying his pants down to join the rest of his clothing. No bashful maiden was Morigan, and she did not look away from his nakedness, but appreciated what she saw: every rough, hairy, huge bit of him.

            He howled and fell to all fours. Bones shifted and snapped, rearranging under his skin like skeletal gears. From his head, chest and loins, the soft black hair thickened and spread over his twisting flesh. His heaving became guttural and sloppy, and when he tossed his head up in a throe of agony or pleasure, his beard had coated his face, and she noticed nothing but white daggers of teeth. Wondrously Morigan witnessed the transformation, watched him swell with twice the muscle he had possessed as a man, saw his hands and feet shag over with fur and split the soil with black claws. Another howl and a final gristle-crunching shudder (his hindquarters snapping into place, she thought) signified the end of the change.

            Her dreams did not do Caenith justice. Here was a beast twice the size of a mare with jaws that could swallow her to the waist. Here was a monster that had stalked and ruled the Untamed. A lord of fang and claw. The birds and weaker animals vanished, knowing a deadly might was near. Around her, the Wolf paced; making the ground tremble with power; ravishing her with his cold gray gaze; huffing and blasting her with his forceful breaths. While the scent of his musk was choking, it was undeniably Caenith’s, if rawer and unwashed.

            Morigan was not afraid, and was flushed with heat and shaking as she slipped the bracelet on and knelt. She did not flinch as the Wolf lay behind and about her like a great snuffling rug and placed his boulder of a head in her lap. No, she stroked his long ears and his wrinkled snout. A maiden and her Wolf. Soon the birds returned, sensing this peace and chirping in praise of it. And neither Morigan nor the Wolf could recall a time—if ever there was one—where they had felt so complete.

Feast of Fates, Excerpt #2

Menos was darker than usual: its clouds as black as the shadow of fear that haunted Mouse. The city felt more menacing to her. She saw shadows in every corner, noticed the glint of every ruffian’s blade or slave’s chain as though they were all intended for her. The warning of Alastair played inside her skull on a loop of nightmare theater.

A hand over her mouth startles her awake, and she twists for the dagger in her pillowcase until she recognizes the shadowy apparition atop her, who hisses at her to calm.

            “Alastair?” she gasps.

            The hand unclenches and the willowy shadow retreats to more of its own; she can only see the scruff of his red beard in the dark.

            “Get up, Mouse. Get dressed.”

            Her mentor sounds annoyed or confused; she is each, but finds her garments quickly enough anyway.

            “I don’t like good-byes, so let’s not call this that,” Alastair says with a sigh. “But it will be a parting, nonetheless. You need to go low. Lower than you’ve ever been before. A new name won’t be enough. You’ll need a new face. I don’t know how or who, but the sacred contract of our order has been broken. Your safety has been bought.”

            Mouse knows the who and how, and as she glances up from her boot-lacing to explain to her mentor her predicament, she sees that he is gone. Just empty shadows, echoing words, and the sound of her heartbeat drowning out all the rest.

            She expected the dead man and his icy master to emerge from the dim nooks and doorways of the buildings she passed at any instant. With a hand on her knives and a fury to her step, she swept down the sidewalk; no carriages for her today, as they were essentially cages on wheels—too easy to trap oneself in. With its sooty storefronts and their wrought-iron windows, its black streetlamps that rose about her like the bars of a prison, Menos was constricting itself around her, and she had to get out.

You’ve survived worse than the nekromancer, she coached herself, though she wasn’t certain that was true. She hurried through the grimness of Menos, dodging pale faces and quickening her step with every sand. By the time she arrived at the fleshcrafter’s studio, she was sweating and stuck to her cloak. She looked down the desolate sidewalk and up the long sad face of the tall tower with its many broken or boarded-over windows. When she was sure she wasn’t being pursued by the phantoms that her paranoia had conjured, she pulled back a rusted door that did not cry out as it should have, given its appearance, but slid along well-formed grooves through the dust. She raced through the door and hauled it closed.

            It was dark and flickering with half-dead lights in the garbage-strewn hallway in which she stood. Mouse picked through the trash with her feet, tensing as she passed every dark alcove in the abandoned complex. Hives, these places were called, and used to house enormous numbers of lowborn folk under a single roof. In Menos, even the shabbiest roof was a desirable commodity, so the building’s ghostly vacancy meant that it likely was condemned by disease at one point. Soon the stairwell she sought appeared, and she tiptoed down it, careful not to slip on the stairs, which were slick with organic grunge.

Couldn’t have picked a nicer studio, she cursed. I’ll be lucky if this fleshcrafter leaves me with half a lip to drink with. Lamentably, speed and discretion were her two goals in choosing where to have her face remodeled. Such stipulations cut the more promising fleshcrafters off the list and left her with the dregs. She hadn’t put much thought into what she would have done, or even if she would end up hideously disfigured. Monstrous disfigurement could even work in her favor, as she bore an uncanny resemblance to that crow-eviscerated woman whom she suspected was the object of the nekromancer’s dark desire. I’ll take ugly over dead. Over whatever he has in mind for me.


Did you always wanted to be a writer? If not what did you want to be?

I’ve always been a storyteller. I suppose that if I wasn’t a writer, I’d be a wizard.

When did you first consider yourself a “writer”?

Once I finished the first draft of Feast of Fates for sure. I’m sure every other author out there would agree.  

How long did it take to get your first book published?

Many, many drafts. Three different editors, and a number of artists and such.  All in all about 3 years.

Do you do another job except for writing and can you tell us more about it?

I used to run a personal training business. In many ways, physical fitness and holistic nutrition have been a rock for me to cling to during some pretty hard times. Taking care of your health can really put into perspective, and balance, other aspects of your life. 

What is the name of your latest book, and if you had to summarize it in less than 20 words what would you say?

Love is what binds us in brotherhood, blinds us from hate, and makes us soar with desire.

Who is your publisher? Or do you self-publish?

Feast of Fates is self-published. As I’ve intimated though, every author can benefit from working with editors and stylistic consultants beforehand. Knowing how to trim and critically observe your work is an important part of writing.

How long does it usually take you to write a book, from the original idea to finishing writing it?

About 2-3 months. I tend to storyboard as I go. I always have a beginning and an end in mind. For me it’s important to have some sense of a roadmap. I also hate cliffhangers, so I stay away from writing them.

What can we expect from you in the future?  ie More books of the same genre? Books of a different genre?

First, I plan on rebranding and refreshing the series before the year’s end. Also, the 2nd book in the series is due out in early 2015.

What genre would you place your books into?

Fiction/ Fantasy/ Romance (Paranormal Romance)

What made you decide to write that genre of book?

Magic and myth are just so interesting! I think that fantasy gives us a nice distance from which to view real social issues. In Feast of Fates, I deal with betrayal, political intrigue, women’s and civil rights. All of these are problems in our own world. I think that’s why readers, so far, find the characters and world so intriguing.

Do you have a favorite character from your books? And why are they your favorite?

Morigan and the Wolf, I definitely love. Their whole epic love story, and how they help and heal the other of old wounds. Mouse is also quite a fun character: her feistiness, her sarcasm (never too thick), her no-nonsense attitude.

How long have you been writing?, and who or what inspired you to write?

For as long as I can remember. Feast of Fates, however, was mostly inspired by my mother. She passed away, but encouraged me to continue in this direction.

Do you have a certain routine you have for writing? ie You listen to music, sit in a certain chair?

I generally take care of exercising, eating, and emailing (I try to limit myself to an hour or less of internet usage a day—that never works!), and then I settle in to write.

Do you read all the reviews of your book/books?

Some of them. It’s important to get a sense of how readers are enjoying your work, but it’s equally as important not to get too hung up on things beyond your control.

Do you choose a title first, or write the book then choose the title?

The title comes from somewhere within the manuscript. I find whatever resonates best.

How do you come up with characters names and place names in your books?

Just a hodge-podge of English, Celtic and Native-American names, with some other influences thrown into the pot for spiciness!

Are character names and place names decided after their creation? Or do you pick a character/place name and then invent them?

Great question. I’ve never really broken down the process before. I would say it’s a chicken/ egg scenario. The name usually comes as I write the character’s first line in the story, though perhaps it’s the other way around!

Do you decide on character traits (ie shy, quiet, tomboy girl) before writing the whole book or as you go along?

No. Well, very basic stuff. But nothing so much as a “list” of traits.

Are there any hidden messages or morals contained in your books? (Morals as in like Aesops Fables type of "The moral of this story is..")

Courage and bravery exist even in the darkest places. Love, does indeed, ALWAYS win!

Which format of book do you prefer, eBook, hardback, or paperback?

I used to be a die-hard physical book reader. And then I discovered e-books! I do love the “feel” of a paperback—bending the spine, the smell of book-spice—but the convenience and options offered through digital marketplaces can’t be ignored.

What is your favorite book and Why?  Have you read it more than once?

Definitely the Earthsea Trilogy, by Ursula K. Le Guin. Brilliant stuff.

Do you think books transfer to movies well? Which is you favorite/worst book to movie transfer?

Depends on the book really. If it’s a more interpretive story with a loose narrative, probably not. If it’s a very visual, visceral and fast-paced story, probably so.

Your favorite food is?


Your favorite singer/group is?

Sarah Brightman. I met her once, and she’s positively enchanting!

Your favorite color is?

Black, or red.

Your favorite Author is?

I’ll default to Ursula again. A true master of the craft, and talented enough to spawn genres and generations of ideas.



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clip_image004Christian A. Brown has written creatively since the age of six. After spending most of his career in the health and fitness industry, Brown quit his job to care for his mother when she was diagnosed with non-Hodgkins lymphoma in 2010.

Having dabbled with the novel that would eventually become Feast of Fates for over a decade, Brown was finally able to finish the project. His mother, who was able to read a beginning version of the novel before she passed away, has since imbued the story with deeper sentiments of loss, love, and meaning. He is proud to now share the finished product with the world.